Never Stop Walking_A Memoir of Finding Home Across the World
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Life is fragile, and humans are vulnerable. We need care and joy. There are so many kindhearted people who prove that there is love, and thus there is hope.
Today, I worry about the changes I see in many of the world’s more fortunate countries. In the wonderful country I live in, Sweden, which I have come to love as my own, refugees stream in, and you see panhandlers and street children more and more often. At the same time, people and politicians close their eyes to the new problems that have arisen. They don’t have the experience to handle the changes that our country, like so many others, faces. Many of us want to help but don’t know how. We might open our borders to these poor people who are fleeing war and misery, but there is no plan of action for how to integrate them into our society. And somewhere along the way, their humanity is forgotten. I sincerely hope that Sweden and the rest of the world find a humane path forward through these crises. We must understand that it does no good to wish for how things were—the past is the past.
Change is painful. It’s uncomfortable and sometimes even distressing. But if we embrace the change and look at the positive in it and strive to make the best of it, there’s so much good to be gained. Viewing situations as us versus them is dangerous. No good can come of that mentality. I fervently hope that no army in Sweden or anywhere else will need to be part of what I experienced in Brazil. I don’t want to see societies filled with good people changed to such an extent that we close our eyes to a young girl being murdered without punishing the perpetrators. This must never feel normal. I never want us to look at another individual and think we’re more valuable because we’re richer or have a different skin color, sexual orientation, or religion.
Although I did not receive professional help as a child, I had an adoptive family that cared for me, a school where the teachers and students accepted me, and a society that welcomed me. I was accepted because my Swedish parents were a part of that society, and so I automatically was, too.
It is so profoundly upsetting to me to think of all these refugee children arriving alone, children who have fled from war and extreme poverty in the hope of a new chance in life. It hurts to know that they, who are already carrying so much—the loss of those who were near and dear to them, violence they’ve had to witness or endure, the loss of faith in humanity and life—are coming to a country that will not wholeheartedly include them in its society. I can honestly tell you that I don’t think I could have handled coming to a new country and not feeling welcome. I wish we could all stop for a second and ask ourselves: What are we doing for these children and these people? What can we do? How would we want to be treated if this happened to us? What difficulties do you encounter when you come to a new land? Let us join together and see the human being, see ourselves in these human beings who need help.
To survive, I was forced to adapt to what was expected of me. But in doing so, I was also forced to give up a part of myself. Although there was so much goodwill, over the years I’ve amassed feelings that I have hidden or locked away. I split my soul in two. Sometimes I’ve flourished that way; sometimes I have not. But most of all, I’ve tried to understand and tried to forgive—to forgive the past, what I’ve done and what others have done to me. I have so many regrets that make me sad—that I never said, “I love you” or “Goodbye” to my second mother, Lili-ann, for example. Rarely do we regret something we’ve said to those we love. What we usually regret are the things we never said. I’ve been afraid to love and afraid of not being loved for who I am. But on some level, I’ve always held out hope that in the future I would be strong enough to be able to work through everything and become whole again. That involves extensive work in coming to terms with the little girl who was scared for most of her childhood, adrift as a teenager, and cleft in two as an adult.
As I read what I’ve written, I note that the process of writing has done just what I wished: helped me along my path. It’s nice to have finished my book project. It hasn’t been easy confronting so many difficult memories. It’s been painful but also gratifying work. Sometimes it feels like I’m reading about someone else’s life. It feels impossible that I could have gone through all this. The two worlds are so different, living on the streets in Brazil and not knowing whether I’d have food to eat that day, and then coming to a country where people throw food away on a daily basis. There’s no logic to it. It feels like I’m reading about a former life, and if it weren’t for my having such strong emotions and dreams about what’s happened, if it weren’t for it having hurt so much and left such deep marks, I would believe I was reading someone else’s story.
What I didn’t understand while I was growing up in Sweden was that I was experiencing massive culture shock. What’s Swedish? What’s Brazilian? Who am I? The experience is hard to describe. That, too, has left deep marks on me. Yes, these marks were made during a winding journey between two parts of the world, and a path like this is never simple or ready-made. At every crossroads, courage is required to decide which way to go. You need to dare to step out into the unknown, and you must be prepared for it to turn your life upside down.
Today I am happy and proud of my life. And this isn’t the end of my story. It’s just the beginning. I carry my mother’s words with me: Always keep walking. Never stop walking.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My profoundest thanks to:
Petronilia Maria Coelho and Lili-ann Rickardsson: Everything good in me comes from you.
Patrick Rickardsson: I love you. Nothing more needs to be said.
My childhood friends: Camile, Patricia, Santos, Maja (Fahlgren) Lindberg, Emma Allebo, Lina Nordlund, Anna-Karin Lundström. You’re more than friends. You’re my family.
Rose-Inger Danielsson: What a wonderful aunt and human being you are! Thank you for always knowing what’s up with me.
Thank you to my newfound family in Brazil.
And thank you to my father, Sture Rickardsson.
Others I’d like to thank: Rivia Oliveira, Anna Stenbäck, Nils Lundmark, Patrick Krainer, Pontus Berg, Pernilla Holmberg, Siri Olsson, Stefan Holm, Inga-Britt von Essen, Federico Luna, Malin Söderström.
I could never have dreamed I would have such wonderful friends and that you would stand by me through this life. I am so grateful. Without you, I think I would have floundered. I appreciate all the times you’ve listened, given advice, scolded me, and loved me. I don’t have the words to describe what you’ve meant and continue to mean to me. The words that I can find now are “I love you.”
To all my skydiving friends: You know who you are, and you’re all amazing. You invited me into a world of so much love and warmth. I hope that I give you just as much joy as you have given and continue to give me. Thank you! The sky is not the limit; the ground is!
A big thanks to all the teachers and the rest of you who have ever been there for me. You will probably never know what a difference you’ve made and how much you mean to me.
A big thanks to my English-language publisher, AmazonCrossing.
And a big thanks to my Swedish publisher, Teresa Knochenhauer, to my editor Liselott Wennborg Ramberg, and to everyone at Bokförlaget Forum.
Christina & Christiana
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2016 Helén Karlsson
Christina Rickardsson was born in 1983 as Christiana Mara Coelho in Brazil. At the age of seven, she was taken to an orphanage along with her younger brother and then out to Vindeln, a village located in the north of Sweden in a region called Västerbotten. After Christina finished her memoir, Never Stop Walking, she founded the Coelho Growth Foundation, which brings awareness to the plight of child poverty.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Photo © 2006 Libby Lewis
Tara Chace has translated more than twenty-five novels from Norwegian, Swedish, and Danish. Her most recent translations include Bobbie Peers’s William Wenton and the Impossible Puzzle (Simon & Schuster, 2017), Martin Jensen’s The King’s Hounds trilogy (AmazonCrossing, 2013–2015), Sven Nordqvist�
��s Pettson and Findus books (NorthSouth, 2014–2016), and Jo Nesbø’s Doctor Proctor’s Fart Powder series (Aladdin, 2010–2014).
An avid reader and language learner, Chace earned her PhD in Scandinavian languages and literature from the University of Washington in 2003. She enjoys translating books for adults and children. She lives in Seattle with her family and their black lab, Zephyr.